To Come Home
by Alia Rubrik
Summary: As if his denial to the presence of their stalkers was an alarm, soft footsteps whispered amongst the aqueous undergrowth, and wraith-like shadows closed in for the kill... Where Sasuke tries to quell the demons of his past, and finally learn to live.


**Rawr. So this story kinda just attacked me at 2 in the morning. I'm quite proud of myself, actually. I managed to combine angst, drama, depression and fluff in under 3000 words. Quite an achievment (for me). Anyways, this is rated T for language, angst, sexual references and a fight scene.**

**Dedication: Air conditioning. Because it's bloody hot outside.**

**Disclaimer: I, in no way, shape or form, own Naruto, or any of it's associated characters.**

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><p><strong>.:{o}:.<strong>

_**To Come Home**_

**.:{o}:.**

It was raining. Sheets of icy shards, not quite water, not quite ice, drenched the company as they – loathe as they were to do it – huddled together for warmth that didn't exist. Their breath misted and froze in the air in front them, before it disintegrated into the night.

The party had their chilled senses alert, and when they weren't dreaming of warm hearths and warmer hugs, they were concentrating on the area around them, and on staying alive. That was their priority: surviving the night. Anything after that was just details. Damn the quest that they'd already forgotten; it had been a lost cause from the moment they'd stepped foot outside of Konoha. Surviving was their new mission.

"S-S-S-S-Sas-s-s-s-suk-k-k-e," stammered one, his teeth chattering so hard he could barely force out his comrades name. "C-c-c-can y-y-you…?" Those three words seemed to have sapped him of his energy, and he slumped forward ever so slightly, chest heaving with exertion. If he hadn't have been so frozen, Sasuke would have snorted at the fact that such an energetic blond idiot was left gasping after three words. But he didn't need to hear the rest of Naruto's question to know what he was asking.

Raven locks spattered frozen water onto the faces of his company, and they flinched as if they'd been burned. They may as well have been. Burned with ice, that is. Sasuke shook his head in reply to the blonde's unfinished question.

_Sasuke, can you sense anything?_

_No._

As if his denial to the presence of their stalkers was an alarm, soft footsteps whispered amongst the aqueous undergrowth, and wraith-like shadows closed in for the kill.

"D-d-d-_dobe,_" Sasuke hissed, his tone a warning for the intruders that were about to appear.

Naruto nodded his head, as did Kakashi and Sai, who was also with them. Painfully, they stood, forcing their frigid limbs to defrost in anticipation of the fight that was about to ensue, instead of focusing on what _could be._

Kakashi flexed his fingers, before holding up eight of them, a silent hint to his companions that there were eight enemies. He received three nods, whether in gratitude or in acknowledgment he didn't know, before arduously pulling out some kunai and shuriken. He only hoped that the coming fight would warm him up enough to give him energy to get home. Naruto also got his weapons at the ready; Sai unsheathed his Tantō, and Sasuke forced his aching fingers to envelope the handle of his katana.

Their bodies were tense, seeing as the pelting rain inhibited their ability to see further than a few feet in front of them. Their enemy had the upper hand: being Ame nins, they were born and bred to thrive in this type of weather. But they were dealing with some of the best – if not _the_ best – that Konoha had to offer, and they weren't going down without a fight.

A shadow, too dark and too quick to be the trees.

The snapping of a twig.

The slight din as rain met clothing.

Out of nowhere, metal bit metal, and grunts and groans of pain assaulted the night, as four frozen men tried to beat back an enemy that was as silent and slippery as smoke. They couldn't tell one body from the other, and merely hoped that the flesh their weapon sunk into wasn't one of their own. Only daylight would tell.

It was too cold for energy, and only raw instinct kept them fighting. The instinct, the will to live. To see the sun slip over the horizon like a yawning babe, quiet and innocent with its saffron glow.

Blood fell like rose-petal raindrops, and melted into the mud. Blood, whether it was owned by friend or foe, didn't register in their mind. All that they thought was,

_I have to fight I have to fight I have to fight_

And the fact that there was someone there who was on their side wasn't realised until there wasn't a blade to meet his blade, and the cries of death had waned to a piercing silence, colder than the night they'd just survived.

All four of them did a quick check of their own bodies, to make sure that no limb had been hacked off unnoticed, before they fled the scene like criminals. The broken, masked bodies of their attackers lay sprawled in the bloody slush behind them. They didn't look back.

No one said anything on their flight home, but the silence said more than words could have. They all had the same message swirling around in their heads –

_I want to go home I want to go home I want to go home_

- and none of them even tried to fill the quiescence that enveloped them. They surrendered to their own thoughts, finally allowing their imaginations to have free reign (and indeed, why shouldn't they, after such a long night?) over their individual myriad of memories.

Kakashi dreamt of a random fuck or two, and a warm, quivering body beside his, to chase the ghosts away, should they appear. Remembering her face would be optional, and names didn't have to be given. Names and faces were never important when the only thing on your brain was _harder, harder, harder._ He dreamt of a late morning, and opening his eyes to have breakfast at lunch time, before realising that his random, nameless, faceless fuck had taken twice the amount she was meant to. But it didn't matter. The past was something to be feared. A hooker with his money really wasn't.

Sai thought of his paintings, his bed which he knew would be cold (literally or figuratively, he had yet to figure out) and maybe a warm shower to work out the kinks in his back. Maybe he'd try naming his paintings this time, but the ability to think up a name that someone would actually _like_ would take energy and research, and he really didn't think he was capable of conjuring up the will to do either. He figured that the most logical thing to do would be to go to sleep, but then he'd have to figure out whether he was meant to enjoy or fear his dreams – if that's what those images were called. Trying to find emotions was really more trouble than it was worth.

Naruto was slightly less optimistic. He loved his home, and he loved his friends, but going to bed with a girl he didn't quite love hurt him as much as he knew it hurt her. He cared for the girl with midnight tresses and moonlight eyes, but there was something that was stopping him from really _loving_ her; at least, in the same way she loved him. There was something that stopped him just short of making love to the girl, instead of sleeping with her, and he knew what it was. Because no matter how many times he tried to delude himself into loving the girl who gave her heart to him, there would always be another face he wished to see more than anyone else's.

Sakura. He'd loved her from the moment he'd figured out what the word meant, and like it is in all unhappy fairy tales, she'd loved his best friend for just as long. Figures, right? Out of all the girls he could have in Konoha, the one he really wanted was off limits. She didn't love him like that. She never had. As a brother, yes. As a protector and a friend, yes. But never as a lover. Her heart had been made for Sasuke's, and – as much as he hated to admit it – his best friend needed her and loved her more than Naruto ever could. But he would always be watching from the sidelines, jealousy and want and maybe just happiness for them shining from his cerulean eyes. Maybe when he got home that day he'd try making love to Hinata, and see if either of them would notice the difference.

Sasuke was, yet again, a different story. He had a girl waiting for him who he didn't deserve, with a child growing in her belly that really shouldn't have been his. But he wouldn't trade it for anything. He'd just count his lucky stars, and go home to her, hoping that this time he'd really see complete forgiveness in her eyes (she said she'd forgiven him, but he could never be too certain) instead of the barely concealed suspicion, hidden behind a shining emerald glamour of love. He loved the girl, there was no denying that. Once he'd gotten over his maniacal obsession with power and revenge, there wasn't anyone left for him except for Naruto and Sakura. Just like the annoying phantoms they were, they refused to damn well _leave him alone_, and underneath his pride and his ego and his hate, the barest hint of gratitude glowed lazily. He knew that Sakura loved him (_how the fuck could she still love him?_) and he lapped up her love like a parched mutt, waiting for it to run out, but secretly hoping it wouldn't.

His best friend loved her. Sasuke wasn't an idiot. Slightly insane, and socially retarded, yes, but he wasn't stupid. He knew that his best friend loved his wife, and really, he couldn't begrudge him for it. Naruto had always been there for Sakura. He had always loved her, had always protected her, and really he deserved Sakura more than Sasuke did. But because Sasuke was a selfish arsehole, there was no way he would let Sakura out of his arms (or out of his bed) until all the love in her eyes really did die, and common sense hit her like it should have when he knocked her out all those years ago. How long ago was that now? Ten, twelve years? They were only thirteen when Sakura first confessed to him feelings he'd ignored all along, and being the young, power hungry, revenge crazed idiot he was, he'd taken her words for granted. He'd left her on a stone bench where anyone could have hurt her, and walked away from her into a future that was darker than the black road under his feet. But somehow, miraculously, she'd forgiven him after the war had ended. Maybe it was because he'd (finally) seen sense? Maybe it was because he'd joined Naruto at the last moment, and had given Naruto the knowledge to defeat Madara. Either way, she had forgiven him, and eventually (for some ridiculous reason) she had loved him again.

_(I tried to kill you!_

_I tried to kill you first.)_

He couldn't argue with her. He didn't want to argue with her. And like the selfish bastard he was, he'd taken her love, and somehow beat his pride back enough to love her too.

Night settled over them like a malevolent bruise, but the air was warmer this time. Konoha's lights sparkled like fireflies against a velvet backdrop, and the quartet ran harder to get home.

The streets were filled with stragglers who shuffled amiably in their quest to get home. The men were worn, but they managed to nod in each other's direction before venturing off to their own separate ideals of home.

A silhouette, dark as pitch, opened the door to his house, and managed a small smile as his roseate haired wife walked towards him, smiling like she hadn't a worry in the world.

"You're home," she stated, and stood on her toes to kiss his lips.

"Ah," Sasuke replied, the word his usual substitute for, _'yes'_.

"No more two month missions, okay? You've missed too much here," she admonished, her tone reprimanding as her hand rested on her – new – stomach.

"You've grown," he acknowledged, and received a scowl from her.

"That's one way to put it, I suppose," she said, and stalked off back to the kitchen. Sasuke sighed, and ran a hand through his messy hair, before removing his stained jacket and muddy shoes and leaving them at the doorway. He'd clean them later. Right now, he just wanted to hold his wife.

She was facing away from him, and stirring some food in a frying pan. Sasuke crept up behind her, and wound his arms around her waist to rest his hands gently upon her stomach. He buried his face in the crook at her neck.

"I apologise," he whispered, only allowing himself to sink to such a level as to actually _apologise,_ for her. Anyone else would sooner be unrecognisable as a human than hear those words pass his lips. "How have you been?"

"Lonely," she answered, her voice muted. "You've missed out on heaps."

"I can tell," he muttered, the barest hint of humour colouring his tone. "Do you know what -?"

"A boy," she interjected. "And he's a fighter too. Kicking away like there's no tomorrow. I can barely sleep."

He chuckled, and let his hands explore her slightly protruding stomach. "A boy," he reiterated, as if to convince himself.

A quick inhalation was heard from both of them as the child kicked, and Sasuke's heart swelled.

"It feels so weird," Sakura complained. "Like, it feels awesome and uncomfortable and reassuring and so many other things at once when he kicks. I just wish I could give him sleeping tablets. Sasuke, I think your son is a vampire. Seriously. He _never sleeps_."

A rumbling laugh was felt in his chest once she'd finished her complaint, and she hit his hand.

"It isn't funny," she growled. "I've hardly slept at all in the past few weeks."

"Maybe he's just missed me," Sasuke offered. "I haven't been here to help you relax."

She nodded her head in agreement. "No more long missions, okay? A few days, no more."

"Ah," he agreed. They lapsed into comfortable silence as Sakura continued to stir the food and Sasuke was enthralled at the way his son kicked against his wife's skin. There was so little separating them. Sasuke wondered, briefly, if the little boy knew how close his father finally was, and was kicking out so much in welcome. The feeling was magical, and if Sasuke wasn't so emotionally screwed up, he might have actually cried with happiness.

"Were there any names you were considering?"

"Itachi." His tone left no room for argument. "You can name all our children after him, but I want this one to be Itachi."

Sakura nodded again, and placed her hands over Sasuke's. "Itachi then."

Sasuke hesitated before voicing his next question, not sure if he was allowed to ask it or not. "Can I…?"

"Yeah." Suddenly, the raven haired man was so grateful to have such an aware wife. She knew what he was asking without him having to pose the question. The roseate stepped away from the counter, and Sasuke got on his knees in front of her, before pressing his ear to her belly. He could hear the faint sound of her heart beat, and another, far quicker fluttering, accompanied by a few strange gurgles and an occasional _thud_ as his son kicked once again. Millennia could have passed and he wouldn't have cared. There was just his wife, and his little, fragile son, feigning strength when both parents knew he wouldn't last a minute outside the safety of his mother's womb.

Without warning, Sakura was captured by Sasuke's arms as he embraced her, his arms strong but gentle as they wound around her body.

"Sakura," he muttered, his voice thick and hoarse with emotion. "_Thank you._"

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><p><strong>So that's me attempting to write fluff : It feels weird. Anyways, reviews would be lovely, please. And please don't favourite without reviewing. Thanks :)**

**Much love, SapphireRivulet xo**


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